


Baatein Kuch Ankahee ( Words Left Unsaid)

by theredqueenofsparta



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fem!John - Freeform, Fem!Sherlock, Femlock, Genderbending, M/M, Please Forgive me, Slow Burn Romance, i wrote this instead of working, i'm writing after a long while, i've kind of combined mumbai and my home town in this fic, indian lesbians falling in love, it is both an Army cantonment area and a big bustling city, since they're indian i've shifted the war situation to kashmir, they're indian okay, they're just as bad communicating here, this is my indian femlock version
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9450080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredqueenofsparta/pseuds/theredqueenofsparta
Summary: Indian femlock -A widowed Shanaya Hardikar runs a sari shop and is both popular and hated for how quick she can figure out what people want and are hiding. One day, Retd Captain Dr Jameela Watwe walks into her shop looking for a proper sari for her medical college's 10th Anniversary Reunion . Read on to see how they grapple with new feelings and fall in love when they move into the apartment above the shop .





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is my first fanfic after such a long while. Please forgive me for the rambling writing . *ducks thrown fruit*  
> The title means " Words left unsaid" . Because I have no creativity in titles so I'm trying to sound all fancy by just putting it in Hindi.  
> ( I got it from a song okay??!!)  
> The characters have the same initials as the originals because this is a Johnlock fic guys lol and aforementioned no creativity.  
> Apparently the critic part of mind is Sherlock in TPLOSH telling my writing (John) I have no creativity haha.  
> Jai Hind- Long Live India/ Victory to India  
> "ha ha sab theek lagta hain" " yes yes, everything seems to be okay"  
> "nana" means grandfather  
> Salunke- Salunke Vihar is a society in my city where serving Army officers and docs and old retired veterans usually stay. My grandmom still lives there.  
> I'll be updating the tags and archive warnings as they apply coz I am flying by the seat of my pants .

Six months ago-

The man dithered about inanely, prattling on about the greatness of all the other facilities his bank had to offer. He offered tea – for the third time and was rebuffed with a decreased degree of politeness from the last two instances of refusal.

Shanaya drummed her fingers on her thigh, to an invisible beat only she could hear.She sighed with a growing impatience at the asthmatic 50 year old man with a distant wife and resentful children. His desk was dusty, has food stains all over the desk and cluttered with paperwork; clearly a lack of care is not only a contentious issue in his personal life.

But like most people trying to keep up appearances, he has an obligatory photo of his family; precariously close to the cup of tea. Plastic frame obviously, (clearly a junior officer at the bank) .The wife and children in the picture had the fakest smiles she’d ever seen out of Marichika’s dreary business parties. 

God, she wanted to smoke. This was tedious.

Fuck Marichika for bribing everyone in two kilometers not to give her any cigarettes, Shanaya cursed her sister silently. 

Oh gods I need to do something before I tell this idiot that his wife is leaving him coz she thinks he’s having an affair and is taking the children.

Shanaya focused on the family photo. Formal portrait; going by the Banarasi silk sari worn by the irritated middle-aged woman. Old wedding gift by her husband? No, going by his slightly yellowing tight white shirt and the thrice hemmed black pants he’s wearing right now.  
No, parents, heirloom most likely going by the 25 year old design with a slight frayed edge and a couple of threads coming out from the bottom ). Shanaya grimaced at the bright fake smile belied by the wrinkled forehead and the stormy eyes, clearly fighting with her husband?? No the husband doesn’t look especially pissed.  
Her eldest daughter then, going by the tall plaited teenage girl smiling with dagger eyes at the camera. Balance of probability favouring dislike of the pretense and hypocrisy of the obviously fractured family unit.

God, dissecting family dysfunction was even worse.

Thankfully, the officer (she really should figure out his name) caught on to her disinterest in his spiel and cleared his throat to get her attention. Shanaya broke out of her irritated deconstruction of the man’s family and looked at him with a barely constrained impatience.

“Mrs. Hardikar-

“Ms Hardikar, Mr. (she took a quick glance at his name plate) Dhandania. I’m a widow” She said bluntly.

Mr. Dhandania spluttered “Oh I’m sorry ma’am – I didn’t realize-“

Shanaya raised her hand to stop the man before he irritated her further with trite condolences “Its fine. Could we get to the matter on hand?”

“Oh yes of course ma’am.” Mr. Dhandania rustled up the papers and took a sip of his now lukewarm tea. “The bank has approved your loan for opening a”- he peered down at the paper –“clothing shop at Baker Street” 

“Ye-es” Shanaya drawled. 

“I just have a few questions to iron out. Your main address seems to be in another city, will you be moving here?”

Shanaya barely restrained a tired sigh at the most obvious question in the history of the universe. She removed a rent agreement paper and slid it to him. “My main address on most of my ID documents is my sister’s for the time being. I have already secured an apartment above the shop at 221B Baker Street and will be moving there in two weeks”.

“Oh ha ha sab theek lagta hain”. He murmured and took another cursory look at the second page. He offered her a reassuring smile at Shanaya who was busy trying not to roll her eyes at the unnecessary placating.

“Well, everything seems to be in order. Your EMI’s have to be regular and paid off 20th of every month for the next three years”. 

Shanaya rose quickly, really wanting to get out of this oppressively boring place. She shook his proffered hand quickly and turned to frog march out of there.

“I’m sorry about your husband madam. I’m sure God will grant you happiness again”. Mr. Dhandania said to her back.

Shanaya’s jaw was set as she stopped and turned to him “Mr. Dhandania, I’d suggest you go home early today if you have any chance of stopping your wife from leaving you once and for all. I’d suggest a nice expensive sari. You know where my shop is”. She turned and walked out of the door to a quickly reddening and spluttering loan officer.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi John! Sorry Hi Jameela!

Present Day-

“Thank you for your service Dr Watwe. Jai Hind”. The General said as the Council stood to leave.

Jameela stood straight as an iron board and stared blankly at the wall behind the now vacated chairs as she watched everyone leave. She turned on her heel and walked to the door as her mind struggled to stick to one thought.

But among the maelstrom, there was one voice that became louder. Jameela struggled not to buckle under the pressure of that now almost deafening voice, as she walked out of the Officers Mess.

She hailed a rickshaw outside the gate and climbed in. As the rickshaw sputtered to life, she flinched at the loud noise.

Her shoulder was hurting as she handed over the money to the driver and walked up to her little one bedroom apartment.

She sat down on the table and looked around at the barely furnished apartment that had somehow now become even more oppressive.

It had been three months since she had returned to her home town and after three months of waiting, she had finally been handed her sentence from the Indian Army.

She would have to add the Retired to her post box soon. How did her grandfather do it? Was it the full word or the short form in a bracket before the name?

She realized the pain in her shoulder was even worse and her hands were shaking.

She took a deep breath and breathed deeply before she broke. She wouldn’t break. Not here.

Naana won’t allow it.

 

 

 

 

The next day, as Jameela walked down to the supermarket in the society, she heard a voice calling out her name.

“Jameela? Jameela Watwe!” She turned around to see a vaguely familiar slightly overweight man in his forties holding a briefcase hurrying towards her.

“Maanav? Maanav Saxena. We went to AFMC together.”

“Oh yes. Maanav Of course”. She shook his hand quickly.

“Yeah I know I got a bit fat. Anyway where have you been? Last I heard you were in Kashmir getting shot at from both sides”.  Maanav said jovially.

“I got shot from both sides” Jameela deadpanned.

After a beat of awkward silence, Maanav persevered on as they walked together into the supermarket.

“So, are you staying in Salunke now?” Maanav walked with her as Jameela picked up a carton of Tomato juice and put it in her basket.

“Can’t afford anywhere else on an Army pension now can I?” Jameela said as she picked up a packet of dates.

“But you can’t bear to live in any other city. That’s the Jameela I remember”.

“Yeah I’m not the Jameela you-“Jameela bit back the rest of the statement. Maanav didn’t seem to notice as they paid for their groceries.

“Where are you working now?” Jameela asked.

“AFMC. I’m teaching the best upcoming army doctors in the country. God I hate them”. Maanav chuckled. Jameela forced a light chuckle out.

“Actually, I just remembered they’re hosting this reunion for our batch at Pride Hotel on Sunday. You should come”. Maanav said as they sat on the stone stair and watched the kids play football of all things on the basketball ground.

“I don’t know. Is it formal?” Jameela asked.

“Yeah. I was actually on my way to buy a suit for it before I saw you”. Maanav said.

“I don’t know man. I just moved in and I don’t know if I even have a sari or something”. Jameela said frowning.

Maanav chuckled.

“What?”

“I think I know someone who can help.”Maanav turned to stand up on the side of the road.

“Who?” Jameela asked as she also turned to walk towards the gate.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my version of the infamous ASIP first meeting.  
> I hope y'all like it.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> I'm so overwhelmed at your response guys. thank you for liking my little fic. I love that you're all loving this.
> 
> Btw the sari details and types I got from various clothing websites. The details about the Bhagalpuri silk sarees from here-
> 
> http://www.craftsvilla.com/womens-clothing/sarees/designer-sarees/  
> http://www.utsavpedia.com/textiles/a-beautiful-backdrop-of-indian-tradition-bhagalpuri-silk/
> 
> Fuck I completely forgot to add translation-  
> Tera hi Faida hoga- You will be the one who benefits ( more or less)  
> Khuda Hafiz- is bye basically.
> 
>  
> 
> Btw my tumblr is depth-of-loyalty-and-love if you wanna come scream at me about stuff . I'm friendly and I rant a lot at the same time
> 
> In my mind, Indian fem!Sherlock has always been Deepika Padukone-  
> Just look at her I mean *heart eyes*-  
> https://goo.gl/images/LXpavN
> 
> Jameela is a bit tricky for me - I was vacillating between Parineeti Chopra-https://goo.gl/images/TnmV6L  
> Rani Mukherjee -https://goo.gl/images/JszSTW  
> Or Vidya Balan-  
> https://goo.gl/images/k2D5BB
> 
> What do you guys think?? Pick your favourite ! Or disagree with me vehemently and tell me who would be better as our Jameela/John

 

 

“Why not the Bhagalpuri silk one?”

Shanaya barely looked up from her phone as she answered “Bhagalpuri silk sarees are for formal ceremonies”.

The mother bristled “It’s a formal ceremony! It’s her-

“12th standard farewell ceremony. A pointlessly formal exercise of hymns, boring speeches and stuff from the Bible said by tediously preachy Bishops, after which she which she’ll probably never wear it again.” Shanaya said curtly. “Plus” she said after giving the mother and the bored daughter sitting on the stool near the entrance playing some insipid game on her phone “You can’t really afford it can you? Go with the blue poly cotton one. Easier to explain to your penny pinching husband”.

The mother got redder with rage and was about to open her mouth to presumably rage at her, her daughter interrupted her from the entrance “Mom, seriously. Let’s go with the blue one. You know dad gets mad when we have to use his credit card.” The daughter walked towards her mom and looked at Shanaya and said “Blue poly cotton sari please”

“But Khushi-

“Aaiii” Khushi whined.

“Fine” The mother muttered and gave the card.

As the mother left with the bag muttering uncomplimentary words in Marathi for Shanaya, the daughter hung back “Dude, how did you know about my dad?”

Shanaya blinked at her “Your mom’s bag and your shoes. I also know that getting an expensive sari would be pointless for you since you’re planning to change immediately and go to your secret boyfriend’s party”

The girl’s eyes went wide “Oh my God, Mahira was right. You’re like a psychic”.

“Hey I’m not like one of those fakes” Shanaya snapped but the daughter had already left the shop.

“You could have just let her buy the expensive one you know. Tera faida hoga Na”. The next door medical shop owner Ghazia Sayed said as she entered the shop.

Shanaya rolled her eyes at her and said “Why have you come to bother me with the same rubbish over and over again?”

Ghazia didn’t blink an eye at her rudeness and said serenely “Coz its fun. We have a bet going in the shop of how many mothers are going to organize a protest against you. You should just let them buy the damn sari they want”.

Shanaya left her phone and put her hands on the glass case separating her from her customers “The Bhagalpuri silk fabric is as old as the Vedic Age. The artwork stitched into every sari is in its purest form and nearly flawless. Because of stupid politics and an unnecessary tangled social history it’s been downgraded to being forgotten or bought by people who never wear it more than once except in weddings of relatives they don’t even remember. The point of saris is to be appreciated and worn regularly.”

She opened a drawer and removed the fabric “It’s meant to be handled and touched regularly. Not forgotten in a cupboard and left there to be eaten by moths.”

‘My mind rebels at such misuse and neglect. Give me – people who can appreciate the beauty or at least not ignore it instead of people buying whatever design looks rich enough to show off to their snide relatives.” Shanaya shoved the fabric surprisingly carefully given her frantic state back in the drawer case.

Ghazia remained unperturbed, clearly having heard this rant before; she held her hands up in surrender “As you wish. Anyway, my break is over. Khuda Hafiz Shanaya.”

Shanaya glared at the back of the 40 year old Muslim separated mother of two who ran the next door medical shop. Since she had opened her shop, Ghazia had been both bemused at best and actively amused at worst at her neighbour’s blunt but accurate evaluations and stories of enraged customers who still kept coming back for more. Ghazia had taken it upon herself, despite numerous attempts of Shanaya to put her off to take care of the woman and look out for her in case her customers got _too_ annoyed.

But even Shanaya had to admit Ghazia had her uses. On dull days, when her mind kept racing out of control, Ghazia gave her fun mysteries to solve about whether the medicines she sold were harmful or not – which customer had come with a false prescription etc.

Shanaya looked around at the piece of fabric she was mending, lying around and sighed – it was so hard not smoking on the weekdays when customers were few and far in between- it was hard not smoking anyway.

She picked up the sewing needle and continued to stitch the hole that an ignorant delivery man had made while delivering the fabrics to her. Shanaya made a mental note to yell at him as she sat down on the stool to stitch in peace.

Fifteen minutes into her stitching she heard a man and a woman’s voices outside.

“My clinic is just opposite of here. My wife swears by this shop. But be warned, she said that you won’t get what you want necessarily, but you’ll definitely _get_ the _right_ sari for you”.

“I see .The clinic seemed a bit different from old days. New money?”

“Something like that. Rich old general. Hypochondriac as hell”.

Shanaya looked up from her stitching to see the doctor from the clinic opposite here – (Maanav…… something) with a short long black haired woman in her 30’s, clearly an old medical college friend – going by the talk. Her breath caught at the formal stance and the wary eyes observing the surroundings- Army Doctor. Invalided home from?-

Shanaya abandoned her stitching to pick up her phone to calm herself down. The battery had gone out- damn.

She looked up “Maanav can I borrow your phone? My battery’s run out”

“What’s wrong with the landline?-

“You know I prefer to text the delivery people”

“Sorry. I left it in the car”. Maanav said after searching his pockets.

Jameela looked at the tall curly haired woman with strong cheekbones and a jaw that could cut glass and took out her phone “You can use mine” offering it to her.

Shanaya blinked and said “Oh thank you”. She took the phone

She turned her back to Maanav and the woman and said “Jammu or Kashmir?”

Jameela was taken aback “I’m sorry what?”

“Jammu or Kashmir?”

Jameela struggled to reply, astonished and somehow intrigued at the shopkeeper as she looked at Maanav “Did you tell her –

Maanav who had wandered to the cupboards full of fabric on the wall and was holding a pink fabric shrugged “Not a word”

Jameela turned to the shopkeeper, slightly wary “K-Kashmir, how did you know”

“I didn’t know I saw. I think you should go with a Shree Sanskruti Banarasi silk one for your reunion party. No wait- a Chiffon sari.” “I’ll get the measuring tape, but I think your measurements are pretty obvious, but you can never be too sure” Shanaya mused aloud as she walked into the backroom.

Jameela frowned almost incredulously “Is that it?”

Shanaya turned to her “Is that what?’

“You didn’t even ask what I wanted. I didn’t even say I wanted a sari. I don’t even know what name to call you by and you're already talking about measuring me”.

Shanaya raised her chin and said “I know you’re a former Army doctor who was invalided home from Kashmir. You have a brother who’s worried about you but you won’t go to him for help. Possibly because you don’t like him- more likely because he just walked out on his wife. Your doctor has diagnosed the tremble in your hands as psychosomatic- quite correctly I’m afraid”. Shanaya half smiled “I think that’s enough to go on isn’t it?’

Shanaya turned to the door and said “The name is Shanaya Hardikar. Welcome to the Baker Street Saree Market”. She smiled a bright smile at the gaping doctor and walked into the backroom.

Jameela looked at her retreating back with complete wonder and turned to Maanav who was smiling wryly “Told you”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jameela find out how Shanaya knows so much about her. There's also touching and not blushing going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEEEEE! Damn 4 chapters already. There used to be days I couldn't reach 500 without getting bored as fuck.  
> Bhaad mein jao- go to hell/fuck off. Though go to hell is more literal translation.  
> nani- grandmother.  
> Hope you guys like it!!

Jameela was still staring at the backroom door, wondering about the force of nature that had guessed ? deduced? , her whole life in minutes, when Shanaya walked back in with a measuring tape and ducked behind the counter to remove  different fabric.

“On the other hand, I think it’d be better if I give you a size extra, so I can use the extra fabric to make you a blouse. It will come inclusive in the total cost so you don’t have to worry. I know you have unemployment issues Dr-…..

Jameela was still staring at her until she realized Shanaya had asked her her name “ Oh, Dr Watwe, Dr Jameela Watwe. You can call me by my first name –Jameela that is”. She said flustered beyond belief at the woman’s gaze and belatedly realizing her manners , stuck her hand out.

Shanaya  shook her hand quickly but not perfunctorily “ Hi Jameela. My name is Shanaya. Now, - she clapped her hands together “ Would you like to do this here or in the backroom?”

Jameela looked around with a slight frown on her face “ I think it would be best if we do this somewhere … a little less noisy na?” She looked up at the tall woman who furrowed her nose, quite cutely to be honest. Jameela frowned at her errant thoughts and schooled her expression.

“ After you, then Jameela”. Shanaya smiled that bright dazzling smile that highlighted her cheekbones even more.

Trying not to blush and getting annoyed at the fact she was trying not to blush, Jameela stalked a little towards the backroom, starting to get aware of the attractiveness of the mysterious genius woman who was going to touch her and wrap the measuring tape around her abdomen and breasts.

Jameela kicked herself mentally and switched on the light in the backroom.

The backroom was a little bigger than she first thought it would be. It was the length and breadth of Nani’s kitchen in the flat where she was now occupying. There were two tables at the end of the room with two fancy looking sewing machines on it. Looking around, she saw cupboards looking like they’re going to pop open with some of the fabric peeking outside .

“ Pretty nice backroom.” Jameela commented as she turned around to face Shanaya.

“ The landlady, Mrs Hanglem, owes me a favour. Couple of years ago, her husband was accused of embezzling money from an IT company. I was able to help her out”.

Jameela frowned “ Wait, you helped to prove him innocent”.

“ Oh no , I ensured he was found guilty”. Shanaya smiled at her with that disarming smile again.

Jameela was again taken aback by the smile and the seeming callous casualness with which she said that, but somehow she didn’t quite believe that that was all there was to it.

Shanaya sidestepped her and went to the cupboard and opened the door with a flourish. Some cloth started to spill on the ground as Shanaya picked out a maroon saree with a silver fall, blue sari with a red and golden fall and a black sari with a gold design . She put them carefully on the table and then walked towards her until she was just a few inches from Jameela.

Jameela strained to look up to the intense brown eyed woman who held out the measuring tape and said “ Shall we?”

Almost as if it were a command Jameela raised her arms and Shanaya briskly but not roughly put the measuring tape around her stomach. “ Soooo. Are you not going to write these down?” Jameela said as she frantically tried not to get goosebumps at her touch.

“ I’ll remember” Shanaya said as she chewed the end of her lip seemingly lost in thought. She walked away to the table and put the maroon sari to one side.

As Shanaya rummaged through the cupboards again , Jameela looked down as she rocked on her feet , trying to get a hold of herself. “ How did you know about all of those things?”

“ I didn’t know I saw”. Shanaya said as she removed a red and black sari with flowers on the fall “ I think this one would match your complexion and height better”. Shanaya went back to staring at the sari for God only knows why.

“ Yeah, how could you possibly see all of that in five minutes ?” Jameela asked again.

Shanaya looked at her intently “I saw your military service in your stance and your hairstyle. Tight bun with pins . But your conversation as you entered the room with Maanav about the clinic. So , army doctor then. Your face is also slightly fairer than your wrists so you haven’t been abroad on holiday so you were serving up north. Your clothes seem to hang off you a bit , so possible lengthy stay in hospital. When you gave me your phone, your hands shook a little bit. But there were no scars on your wrist or hands so psychosomatic tremble probably. That meant that you were injured and the circumstances were deeply traumatic . So wounded in action and hence invalided home.  Hence, Jammu or Kashmir.” Shanaya finished in one breath, looking both triumphant but also a sense of slight fear and nervousness started creeping up on her face as she started to walk towards the doctor.

Jameela was again left completely speechless and couldn’t say anything as Shanaya took the measurements for her breast area. She finally found her ability to talk as Shanaya wrapped the measuring tape around her arm “That was ….amazing.”

Shanaya paused and looked at her with dawning surprise “ You.. think so?”

“Yeah, that was amazing. Simply extraordinary. ”. Jameela said wonderingly as she looked up at Shanaya’s growing smile as Shanaya realized that Jameela had meant what she had said . 

“ That’s not what people usually say”. Shanaya said wryly as she picked up two saris and beckoned Jameela to follow her out of the backroom.

“ I can imagine what they would normally say.” Jameela said smiling a bit “Something along the lines of-

“Bhaad mein jao” Shanaya laughed at Jameela’s dry chortle as she closed the door behind her.

Maanav had seemed to disappear to more interesting pastures as Shanaya went behind the counter and put the sari on it . She went towards the computer and typed in the type of sari and the customer .

“ You can take your pick of the sari now. I would suggest the red one . It suits you best especially if you have to make a good impression in front of all the stuffy ex college friends you’ll have to face. If you want , I can also do the blouse and fall for you”. Shanaya looked up at her with a superior if –i-must but still somehow half hopeful look at her as she handed Jameela her phone back.

Jameela grinned at her “Well who else would I go to ? The reunion’s on Sunday and today’s Thursday. Will you be able to do it soon enough?”

Shanaya just raised her eyebrows “ Obviously. Come back tomorrow”. She stole one last unnoticed glance at Jameela as she reached for inside of her purse.

As Jameela was picking up the bag with the sari in it, Maanav came back with a bag of medicines. “ Oh that was quick. You got everything you needed Jameela?”

“ Yeah. I think so. Probably”. Jameela said as she cast one more admiring and wondering look back at the extraordinary woman who somehow still looked mysterious and charming when she was cursing and hitting her computer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jameela has no control over herself as much as she tries. Dr Watwe and Shanaya Hardikar are going to move in together !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a bit of a filler chapter to bring the characters where they're at. Sorry if its boring.  
> Now, this chapter is going to start certain themes for this story. Because I'm a smartarse who loves TJLC and the beautiful metas. So I am going to have a few running themes in this story that will help my babies figure out their way, hopefully creating a little angst and tension .
> 
> bevakuf- stupid/idiot  
> dimag kahi ghaas charne gaya hain- your brain has left you to chew the cud . My grandmother says that lol. Basically it means that your brain has left to graze with the cows.  
> pani – puri - the greatest food India can make apart from dosa and idli.   
> go search it and try to make it at home. Pretty sure you can find kits to make them at indian stores near you. ( to my non Indian readers)

As Maanav left her to Nana’s place, Jameela hadn’t stopped thinking about the mysterious genius lady who had figured her entire life out in minutes. Not even that, seconds! Just one look at her she knew everything! Jameela smiled and laughed to herself at her mental gushing over the mysterious genius.

I don’t know why you’re gushing so much Jameela; I mean she clearly is a bit of a lunatic with the whole “I helped convict my landlady’s ex husband thing”, a snide voice in her mind that sounded suspiciously like her grandmother’s said.

But no, even then Jameela didn’t believe that she had done that without some kind of motive.

“I don’t know.” Jameela groaned aloud and sat heavily on the table.

 I mean, obviously she’s amazing and gorgeous and a genius and funny and- “whoa, calm down there woman”. Jameela stopped her thoughts before she went _there._

Yeah going into the backroom might not have been a good idea.

Jameela went into her bedroom and got her laptop out. Yeah, she definitely needed to get out of here. She couldn’t hear herself think without Nani’s voice following her around.

Sambhal cha meri behen, no one wants a repeat of what happened last year right. Definitely not good for your BP. Jameela mentally scolded herself as she typed in Shanaya and “sari shop” in Google.

Might as well get a read on her, Jameela said, trying to convince herself that’s ALL she was doing.

As she scrolled down, Jameela saw a blog with barely 1000 hits on it called “The Science of Clothing”. Jameela smirked, yeah that was her.

She made herself a cup of tea, rolled her shoulders and clicked the blog. This was going to be more fun than whatever pub night Saxena was planning tonight.

 

 

 

 

Two days later, Shanaya was arguing with a hapless looking delivery boy outside her shop who was being barraged with a dictionary worth of synonyms for “idiot”.

In two languages.

“Are you that imbecilic, itna bevakuf hain that you don’t get what the hell be careful with silk means??!! Look, “She gestured furiously at the tiny hole in the cloth on the hem “dimag kahi ghaas charne gaya hain”. She glared at the terrified delivery boy before she saw a familiar figure coming towards her. She glared at the delivery boy “I’ll deal with you later. Now shoo”. She gestured imperiously at the boy who scarpered away as fast as his legs could take him.

Jameela wasn’t sure if she should have come on her own for this. Maybe Maanav could have served as a good buffer between her and Shanaya. Her annoying little – thing for the mysterious cheekbone lady was going to be a problem. Jameela thought a little frustrated.

“Ah Mrs. Shanaya”. Jameela said, smiling politely as she walked towards Shanaya.

“Ah, Shanaya please”. Shanaya smiled as they shook hands and both walked into the shop.

Shanaya walked behind the counter and looked at her “So, what brings you here?”

Jameela blushed at the cute little smile Shanaya was still directing at her, damnit! Get a hold of yourself Watwe.

“Um, the blouse and fall please” Jameela said a little curtly trying to get a hold of her composure.

Shanaya’s smile didn’t fade but it seemed to dim a bit as she cleared her throat “Oh yes, of course it’s here.” She turned around to open a cupboard and rummaged through it.

“So, I uh researched you. Found your blog. The Science of Clothing.” Jameela said, trying to fill up the sudden empty space she felt in the room when Shanaya turned her back on her.

Shanaya turned back “Oh did you like it?”

“It was interesting to say the least. You say you could figure out an airline pilot by their thumb and a pani – puri maker by their moustache”. Jameela said pursuing her lips.

“And I read your army career in your stance and your brother’s drinking habits through your mobile phone”. Shanaya said smoothly.

“Yeah , I forgot to ask that yesterday. How did you know about my - uh, brother’s drinking habits?” Jameela asked.

“Your phone has tiny scuff marks around the edge. His hands shake when he plugs in his phone every night. Classic sign of alcohol abuse. Plus you have a phone that was clearly a present from his spouse as the inscription says “

Jameela turned to see the inscription

Harsha I love you

Clara xxx

“Three kisses means spouse usually plus the fact it’s with you, both means he wants you to stay in touch and he left her and doesn’t want a reminder of her”. Shanaya finished with a little shrug to say ‘easy’.

 Jameela laughed a little, still wonderstruck at her. “I’m still wondering, on why someone like you is just running a little Saree shop in the middle of Baker Street of all places?” Jameela asked.

Shanaya sighed internally, fantastic she was just like the rest of them. Pity. “Why am I too rich or too privileged for the likes of this little neighborhood?” She said sarcastically.

“No, you’re too good and intelligent”. Jameela said a little stung.

Shanaya paused the rant she was building in her head at that, and looked at the flushing doctor.

“Oh. Not good?” Shanaya asked.

“A bit not good yeah. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that”. Jameela said a little sheepishly.

“You shouldn’t have.” Shanaya said matter of factly. But the way she put the blouse and fall in the bag and handed it over to Jameela, indicated to her that she was forgiven.

After payment, Jameela turned to leave as she saw a flyer on the counter.

**“Roommate wanted. I play the piano and don’t talk for hours. No idiots need apply”**

Jameela picked up the flyer and examined it “Do you know who left this here?” She asked Shanaya who was busy tackling the silk cloth with the hole in it with vigorousness

“That’s mine”. Shanaya said seemingly distracted as she stabbed the cloth with unnecessary force with the sewing needle.

Jameela looked at the paper, and looked at Shanaya muttering under her breath about incompetent boys who will die from slipping on a banana peel because they’re such idiots “I don’t mind”. Jameela said out loud before she could think otherwise.

Shanaya looked up at her “Are – you sure?”

“Um, yeah. Could be fun”. Jameela said as she and Shanaya couldn’t stop staring at each other.

“Soooo, I could move in on Monday?” Jameela said awkwardly trying to break the intense gaze.

“Yeah sure- of course. I’ll see you then”. Shanaya said, giving the brightest smile to her roommate she had yet.

Oh crap, I’m screwed.  Jameela thought.

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hardikar siblings have a penchant for the dramatic seriously.  
> aka- Pretty sure this counts as abuse of power Marichika to use company resources and money to interrogate your sister's future roommate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG.  
> I'M SORRY FOR THE EXTENDED DISAPPEARANCE.  
> WOW.  
> THIS WAS LONG.  
> This is a little more insight into Jameela's mindset and the secrets she hides.  
> This is definitely relevant guys. Remember.  
> Don't worry next chapter , more interaction by our cuties.  
> gulab jamuns- the greatest gift by God. Ambrosia for humans.  
> Not kidding.  
> You can probably make it I think. http://www.vegrecipesofindia.com/gulab-jamun-easy-gulab-jamun-recipe/  
> But if you go to any Indian store nearby to you pretty sure you'll find it there.

“Jameela! Jameela Watwe? It’s me!  How have you been? How was Kashmir?”

Jameela tried not to fidget as she faced the fifth person at the drinks table who she has “reunited” with within the last hour or so. She plastered on a smile and turned to the big, mustachioed, rotund man in a brown suit one size too small for him, who back in the day used to be the ultra fit , captain of the football team and to her, the copier of notes because he slept through class _every day._

“Oh yes Aniket, nice to see you. “ She smiled politely and shook his hand quickly “How have you been?”

“Arey, the same. After graduation, my father in law got me a job at a government hospital and I’ve been there since. Nothing exciting. Nothing like you. I mean come on, you were in Kashmir. You must have seen some action ha?” He laughed and clapped her back.

Jameela stamped down the automatic frustration and anger she felt “Action is – one word for it. I wasn’t bored if that’s what you mean”.

“Haha. Same old Jameela. Always know where the fun happens”. Aniket guffawed again as he lumbered off in his wife’s direction with the Coke.

Jameela closed her eyes and tried to fight down the revulsion and anger she felt rising. This was the fifth time someone had asked about “fun” Kashmir and “adventurous” Kashmir and “tourist spot” Kashmir.

If you count, putting your hands in a gaping hole where skin and bone should be in freezing temperatures while you’re also trying to save a life of someone who wasn’t even aware of the political pissing match between the two countries. To have to treat someone with a child’s first aid kit in a jeep as you shield his body from an angry public who hate your presence there, as fun.

Kashmir was never fun or a tourist spot. It was pain, blood, fear and heartbreak.

God I’d love to back there now instead of milling about with idiots I barely remember from medical school.

She gulped down her gin and tonic in one go and motioned to the waiter for one more.

The waiter nodded and turned to get the gin. As he turned around, Jameela frowned at the earpiece in his right ear.

Strange. Jameela frowned at that but quickly smoothed her expression as the waiter turned to her and started making her drink.

Jameela tapped her feet and looked down at the sari. She didn’t know her elbow from her bum about saris, but when she looked in the mirror this evening, she had to say she looked pretty damn good.

Jameela smiled a little at the thought of the smugness radiating from the mad genius woman as she would say “Obviously”. She stifled a giggle.

“Here’s the drink madam”. The waiter said interrupting her thoughts.

 Jameela thanked him and took the drink to shuffle off into the crowd.

The reunion was being held at one of those big wedding venue places. It was a big garden area with a wooden stage with hastily draped curtains on it, Jameela was pretty sure she could see a sizable hole on the banister. The DJ has given up trying to do any actual DJ’ing and was basically now letting the music play on shuffle while presumably played some latest mobile game on his phone, given the furious tapping.

“How’s the mingling going?” A voice said from behind her.

Jameela reacted instinctively, spilling her drink a bit as she elbowed in the general direction of the voice’s groin.

“Woah! Woah!” The voice exclaimed .Jameela turned around, fists clenched and slightly raised to punch the enemy combatant.

“Easy there! Sorry!” Maanav said as he wiped his shirt of the drink he spilled trying to back away from his friend who was now staring at him with the coldest eyes he’d ever seen. He repressed a shudder that had nothing to do with the slight coolness of temperature as he removed his handkerchief to wipe what little had fallen on his pants “Jameela, it’s me Maanav. It’s just me. You okay?”

Jameela kept staring at him for a minute with that same expression as she mentally tried to get herself together, it’s just Maanav Jay, he didn’t know Jay, get you together soldier! She shouted at herself as she snapped back into reality.

“Oh God, I’m sorry Maanav. Wait let me give you my wet tissues”. Jameela babbled a bit as she rummaged through her purse.

“No, no its fine. Are you fine though? Jameela” Maanav said as he looked at her with a new wariness in his eyes. Great, another one Jameela thought.

“ I’m fine.” Jameela said shortly as she righted herself and brushed herself to check for any spillage on her sari.

“Okay. I was just asking how the mingling going is?” Maanav asked, still unsure but somehow realizing they were not going to be talking about this EVER.

“Its fine. Nice to see old faces. Met Aniket”. Jameela said nodding.

“Yeah he’s been asking about seeing you for a while. I don’t think he’s still gotten over Diwali 1997.” Maanav joked.

“Oh my God, yeah. His one last hurrah before he got married. Drinking, bursting firecrackers and an ill-advised hook up”. Jameela gave a half smile at Maanav as they reminisced.

“Anyway, apart from Aniket no one else bothered you as such?” Maanav said.

“No not really. Met a couple of the old instructors. That was …a pleasant and not mortifying experience.” Jameela joked, trying to lighten the awkwardness that had settled in.

“ Oh yeah, you’re still infamous among the teaching staff here still”. Maanav said .

Jameela smiled a slightly sad smile and said “So, did the college get a makeover worth crores recently or did you rob a bank?”

Maanav laughed and said “Oh God no. we’re still tiny and underpaid as hell. Actually, something strange happened. We were going to do this in the usual place as we do all our formal stuff. In that tiny wedding hall near that sweet shop and give everyone samosas and chips. But we got a call two days ago by some hot shot sounding voice on the other end who said she would get us a better and bigger place and give us catering too free of charge”.

“Damn” Jameela said slightly impressed. “Did you ever find out who it was?”

“No. That was their one condition. We don’t try and “be smart”. I guessed they don’t want us to know. As long as it’s not a terrorist or something, hopefully we should be okay.” Maanav shrugged.

A waiter suddenly appeared out of seemingly nowhere in front of them and said “Dr Watwe? There’s an urgent call for you from your sister on the landline”.

Jameela followed the man hurriedly muttering frantically “Damnit Harsha, what the hell did you do now? Isn’t Clara supposed to be doing this?”

Wait.

“How do you know my name? How do you know I have a sister?” Jameela said slowing down as she realized they had walked into an unfamiliar road now.

“Please follow me ma’am.” The waiter said as he spoke into his wrist “Nearby with Jackal. Standby”.

Jameela went ramrod straight as she surreptitiously reached for her keys in her pocket. It’s not much, but it’s literally all she has as a weapon now.

Suddenly the waiter stopped, Jameela clenched her keys in her hand and made it into a makeshift brass ring.

Suddenly a phone rang from the phone box in the opposite street.

“That’s for you Captain. Jai Hind” The waiter turned around and saluted her as he walked away.

Jameela stared at the back of the waiter and at the constantly ringing phone in the booth as she looked around at her surroundings. It was a dark road with only one flickering street light. There were occasional cars that went by but she knew that no one would see her here. She went towards the booth and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“There will be a car coming in five minutes to your location Dr Watwe. Get in the car”. A computerized voice said from the phone.

“Why?”

“Because you’re a smart woman and I’m sure your current position is quite clear to you”

Just as Jameela was about to retort, a black SX4 stopped in front of the booth. Jameela heard the phone click as the window of the car rolled down. A young, attractive woman in a suit was typing on his phone.

Jameela put the phone back and got into the car.

“Hello”. Jameela said.

The woman ignored her and kept typing until a few seconds later, it seemed to occur to her about politeness “Hello”.

“Nice cool night isn’t it? For a walk.”

“Oh yeah” The woman went back to typing on his phone.

The car stopped. Jameela sat there, not quite knowing what was going to happen, but the woman looked at her and very pointedly said “Bye”.

“Okay” Jameela climbed out of the car and saw she was near a wedding hall. She could smell gulab jamuns from nearby.

As she walked in, she saw a short-ish curvy woman in a suit and a black briefcase a little away from her standing near the stage. There was a chair a little further away from him.

“You know you could have just called me. I do have a mobile. This was funny and all. But still could do without the dramatics” Jameela said as she took in the presumably mysterious voice on the other end of the phone. The woman stared at her coolly and simply said “Take a seat Dr Watwe”.

“No thanks I’ll stand”. Jameela said as she looked her straight into her eyes.

“You don’t seem very frightened”.

“You don’t really seem all that frightening”.

“Ah yes, the brave soldier. But in this case your bravery is a foolish idea” The woman said ominously.

“Who are you?” Jameela repeated her eyes hard.

“What is your connection to Shanaya Hardikar?”

Jameela frowned minutely before her expression became implacable “I don’t have one. I bought a sari from her two days ago”

“Yes, in that time, you’ve seen the back area and now you’re moving in together. Might I expect an elopement soon?” The woman said

Jameela flushed involuntarily “ I don’t see how it’s any of your business”.

“It could be”.

“It really couldn’t”. Jameela said.

The woman removed her phone and scrolled through something “ If you do move above the shop into 221B . I could pay you a sum of money to help you ease your way. Pay the rent.”

“Why exactly?”

“Act of charity you can say”

“Somehow I really don’t believe your altruism doesn’t have a condition.” Jameela said with a smirk.

“You wouldn’t have to do all that much. Just pass some information along to me about her. Nothing indiscreet of course. Just how she’s doing”.

“ Why?” Jameela said with a slight demanding tone of her voice.

“Deep concern. Constant deep concern”.

“ No”.

“ I haven’t even mentioned a figure”.

“You can still fuck off” Jameela said.

The woman looked at her appraisingly “The woman who didn’t trust her own sibling to tell her about her discharge has thrown in her lot with a strange woman from a shop. Is it that you have now put your faith in Shanaya Hardikar of all people?”

“How the hell do you know about my sister?” Jameela said.

The woman narrowed her eyes at her “I know a great many things about her. Some things you don’t even know and some things you choose to hide from others. Have you told your new _friend_ about your sister’s… relationship status?”

Jameela’s eyes flared a bit “My sister is none of your business ”.

The woman laughed but there was no real humour behind the laugh “Major Sajid will be very pleased with her little _soldier_. You have come far Captain Watwe Though apparently not far enough”.

Jameela’s fists clenched as her temper flared “You-

 But the woman had already picked up her briefcase and started walking away from her towards the door “Tell Shanaya she is always near the enemy however far she tries to go”.

Jameela stood ramrod straight until she heard the man leave the hall. She turned to see the woman in the car

“I’m to drop you off at your place”.

“Okay. Okay” Jameela said as she walked behind her towards the car.

“Actually, could you do two stops?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woooo! I'm alive!!!  
> I hate writer's block by the way. I hope this chapter makes sense. To someone. I've apparently forgotten how to write.  
> Usne bola tha- she had said.  
> Parakram Padak- Wound Medal. Indian military award served to people in all governmental organizations including the military in case of injuries sustained as a result of direct enemy action in any type of operations.   
> Grenadiers- An Indian Army regiment dating back to the British colonial era. Formerly known as 5th Grenadiers haha. My "sly"call back to the era the SH books were written in.

Colour, feel, material.

Design, threading and durability.

Shanaya walked through these rooms repeatedly, trying to figure out a pattern that combined them. Black, cotton, intricate thread work. Nope, did that before.

Shanaya brought up white, thick border, Bengali printing. Possibility. File away for later.

Sonepuri silk with gold border and flowers. Much better. Shanaya motioned it into the Yes basket.

Shanaya stared at the material and sighed.

This is just boring.

Shanaya opened her eyes and looked at the roof. Peeling paint with slight cracks on the wall and an intermittently working fan.

Oh great now she’s deducing her own damn roof.

I am so bloody bored.

Shanaya turned to her side on the sofa where she was lying. Draped in a slightly tatty, loose dressing gown which was lying on the floor a little, Shanaya sighed and stared at her phone on the coffee table sitting placidly at a little distance from the coffee table. Mrs Hanglem had moved the table after one too many instances of Shanaya forgetting it was there and hitting her thigh on it when she got up, leading to profound swearing in three languages and yelling at her bemused landlady.

Shanaya had a hobby- well more an enthusiastic interest than a hobby. In her off time, which she had a considerable amount; most people were too predictable in their choices and wants and barely required actual brain work.

But sometimes, she got comments on her blog and mysterious emails. Requests by people who find mysterious codes (or who think they have) in their clothing. From mysterious threading denoting the ancient Fibonacci sequence to the flower printing on the border conveying a message from the Victorian Flower Language, the problems the **work** kept her going on the most tiresome of days.

Shanaya reached for her phone and scrolled furiously through the comments section.

“Nothing, nothing ,yes she is cheating on you with your rich CEO neighbour, she goes out wearing a Paithani for God’s sake, boring , boring, God!” Shanaya threw her phone where it bounced harmlessly on the carpet and started pacing across the room.

“What is wrong with the masses today? Why is everyone being so hatefully boring and dull? Why are they being so stupid? Why? Why hasn’t she called yet?!” Shanaya stopped pacing suddenly.

Okay, what just happened there?

“Usne bola tha she’ll move in with you. She volunteered to move in with you. Stop worrying”

“But she said Monday. That leaves her forty eight hours and a reunion party where she could meet some old friend who could have an extra room with her and offer it to her in a pathetic attempt to hit on her and then she would call you because she’s too nice to just text you and with that apologetic and regretful tone she would tell you that she has found a better roommate who wouldn’t play piano at odd hours and dissect her life into fifty thousand parts just because she can and –“ Shanaya realized she had now started speaking out loud breathlessly and  she could hear her heartbeat in her ears as her pulse increased rapidly.

Shanaya put her hand on her other hand and held it tightly over her pulse as she breathed in and out slowly and deliberately to calm her anxiety ridden heart down.

After a minute of breathing, Shanaya started counting her pulse. 70. Good.

But what was not good was the anxiety attack that had hit her after nearly five years without an incident.

At least this was mild. But it still wasn’t good. She wasn’t the naïve anxious ingénue who was slave to her emotions anymore. She didn’t do anxiety or silly teenage style obsessing over a pretty girl. She was the resolute design stitched into her saris, the cold hard logic and analyses of the mysteries in the cloth and the threading.

Shanaya would have convinced herself better if her phone hadn’t beeped with a mail notification.

Shanaya scrambled for her phone lying a few feet away from her on the carpet and checked her email.

Oh. Unique. Interesting. Possibly dangerous.

Shanaya smiled a little as she dashed off a quick reply to the person, giving them the address.

Once she had sent the email, she pressed on the message icon.

Dr Watwe had been discharged due to injury. She’d been in the Army for a long time, multiple years- 6? 10? Need further data. But clearly, not a voluntary discharge since the amount of years in service denotes she was relatively happy there.

 When she talked to Saxena, the idea of the reunion didn’t seem to please her a lot. So clearly, not a big fan of mingling or parties as a whole. Wary eyes as she scanned the room, always on alert for danger – a soldier’s habit.

Maybe, just maybe.

Shanaya typed out a quick message to Jameela’s number and sent it before she could think otherwise.

She put her phone down quickly and walked into the kitchen chewing her thumb nail. She needed to make some tea.

Jameela drummed her fingers on her thighs as the car waded itself through traffic. Driving through Indian traffic was a pain anyway, but Sundays were especially punishing as everyone either was on their way out with their families or coming back from somewhere where they spent a short weekend.

Jameela looked at the woman sitting next to her. Clearly some form of assistant, constantly tapping away on her phone. Not really much of a talker, with the short responses and consistent ignoring of said doctor’s presence entirely when not asked a direct question.

As the car took a right, Jameela’s thoughts turned to the person of the day- Shanaya. Clearly, she was a lot more interesting than she had thought previously.

Which was saying a lot, considering Shanaya was the most interesting, charming and unique person she had met in a long while. Mad, definitely. But fascinating.

The mysterious lady may or not have been telling the truth about her “deep concern” (who the fuck talks like that jeez), but that lady’s methods were definitely suspect.

The car suddenly stopped as Jameela looked up confused for a second until she looked at the window and realized she had reached her apartment building.

“I’ll be downstairs in fifteen minutes.” Jameela said to the assistant lady whatever. She stepped out of the car and smirked at her, “Keep the meter running.”

Jameela ran upstairs and took out her duffle bag and dumped all of her clothes in it along with her laptop. She zipped the bag up and flung it on the floor as she dragged her black trunk out.

Jameela paused her frantic speed for a second and looked at the trunk and the etchings.

“Captain Dr Jameela Watwe, AFMC. The Grenadiers. Jabalpur MP.  Uri, Kashmir.”

Jameela opened the latch on the trunk. It consisted of a tennis racket, Army uniform, multiple awards from her regiment from tennis to swimming to acting as Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing which they had set up for the visiting generals, a bunch of letters unanswered and returned and her Parakram Padak medal.

Jameela picked it up and gazed at it.  Tiny little thing, a circular silver medal with the national emblem fitted to a ring on a white ribbon with a red middle and lines running through it. But somehow it had seemed so heavy and final at the time that she had to control herself from buckling as they pinned it on her.

Since that day she had felt that pressure, that heaviness of that piece of ribbon weighing her down as she walked through the streets. She felt the ache of that burden and an emptiness that had filled her heart in the absence of a purpose… a life.  

Until now. Jameela smiled a little.

How do you know she would feel the same thing you did?

There was something there. A connection. A kindred spirit, something I don’t know. But it was there.

You’ve thought something was there before, how did that turn out? That insidious voice piped up again.

This is not the same, we’re on equal ground. I’m not a Captain anymore and neither is she a soldier. Jameela retorted to that faceless voice silently.

But you are invested and interested. You’re not that lucky to meet two people like _you_ twice in a lifetime.

Jameela clenched her fist momentarily and looked at the bunch of letters lying innocuously. How could she be that lucky?

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Jameela latched her trunk shut and opened her window to call down to the car to go away as her phone pinged with a message.

 

**Something interesting has come up with. Possibly dangerous. If convenient, come up to the shop now and ask for Mrs Hanglem. If inconvenient, come anyway. SH**

Jameela stared at the message for ten seconds as a smile grew on her face.  She grabbed her duffel bag and slung it on the shoulder. She dragged her trunk with her other hand and closed the door with a sharp thud as she marched on to her new life waiting for her a few short kilometers away.

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh God Yes"
> 
> I don't think I need more to describe this chapter lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK FINALLY!
> 
> I'm a loser honestly. I've been swamped with so much pointless ass work for the last two months and I gave an entrance test for a screenwriting degree class which i didn't get it coz life hates me and I've started preparing to do my Masters out of the country and I've been losing it honestly. But finally I'm back and here is another chapter.
> 
> Okay , so in this chapter we meet Mrs Hanglem/ Mrs Hudson who is basically BAMF Wonder Woman here.
> 
> I so based her on my grandmother. My grandmother can literally speak three languages in one sentence in half a breath I'm not kidding. Plus she's crazy healthy and fit. So much so, that when she has threatened to drag my lazy ass out of bed if I don't re start exercising again and make me walk with her .
> 
> Which like noooooo.
> 
> Translation-  
> itna badboo aati hain my God. Mujhe nahi pata woh ladki aadha waqt kya karti rehti hain- such a bad smell comes from her flat , i don't even know what that girl does half the time
> 
> "Āṇi puḍhacyā bilḍiṅgacī gharamālaka tilā mhaṇālā kī tinē saw yellow smoke from Shanaya's flat . But she always had an eye out for Shanaya mhaṇūna mī tilā durlakṣa kēlē- and that landlady of the next building said that she swore she saw yellow smoke come out from her flat ! But she always had an eye out for Shanaya so i ignored her
> 
> maanglik naam- unlucky name. 
> 
> panditji- priest basically. its usually a term used for holy persons or astrologers or anyone dealing in the religious and mystical sort of thing.

 

When the car reached the road opposite the shop, Jameela flung open the door to walk out.

She stood near the trunk , waiting for the driver to open it from inside as the assistant? lady sidled up next to her still tapping away on her phone.

Jameela stood straight, staring ahead at the dark road they came by as it took the posh car's trunk a surprising amount of time to open.

Someone needs to take it to servicing already. Jameela thought absently but with a wryness that could very well define her entire evening.

Jameela tried to get a look at the car number but it was sellotaped over . The car make and model was too unclear as the streetlights were barely flickering.

Who the fuck was this lady ? Jameela wondered as she glanced warily at the tappy-tapp sound of the assistant texting someone-probably the creepy lady. Keeping an eye on her most likely.

The trunk was finally open . Jameela quickly grabbed her bag and dragged her trunk out by the handle on the side .

"The driver could take that up for you". The assistant said without looking up from her phone.

"Nope." Jameela replied curtly as she walked towards the gate.

"Okay." The assistant replied in a monotone.

"You probably are going to ignore me, but I don't think you're suited for this life" The assistant said to Jameela's back as she dragged herself and her baggage to the gate. Under the flickering light , the inky black gate was almost invisible if it wasn't for the snoring security guard and the flashlight he held which was dropped on the ground.

 " What life?" Jameela looked back at the assistant who was finally looking up at her.

"You'll find out " The assistant said, being annoyingly mysterious for some stupid reason.

" Okay. Tell your boss, thanks for the nighttime ride and tell her to fuck off and stay out of Shanaya's - and my business- but you know politely." Jameela said pleasantly with a tight sarcastic smirk that belied her tone as she turned her back on her and walked towards the gate.

As the car sped off into the night behind her, Jameela's shoulders loosened and she let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding the entire night. The security guard finally heard the scraping of the trunk against the ground and woke up to let her inside the building.

She knew danger. She knew what "interested parties" did and how they could intercept and contact people. She may have been a doctor , but she had never been immune to Army politics or the machinations of the government , trying their best to manipulate an already fraught environment .

That woman had been danger. The smell of politics, control, manipulation and agendas was emanating from her. She wielded power and tried to use it to whether intimidate her or persuade her , she doesn't quite know.

All she knows is that Shanaya is a lot more dangerous than she first seems. Jameela didn't quite know whether that wasn't a good thing.

As she walked towards the stairs, she took a look at the nameplates near the flight of stairs , looking for the flat.

"Oh, hello. Are you Dr Watwe?" A stocky lady with grey streaks in her hair clad in a blue nightdress peeked out from the gated door from the ground floor flat.

" Uh yes. Um, Shanaya-- I mean Ms Hardikar said I could come up . I'm here for the extra room..? ". Jameela said as she pointed towards the nameplate of 221B awkwardly.

"Oh yes! My name is Mrs Hanglem. I am the landlady here" The lady exclaimed. She grabbed her keys from the side table presumably and grabbed hold of Jameela's trunk. Jameela tried to protest but the scarily sturdy lady picked it up like it was a sack of onions and briskly walked up the stairs, chattering away, leaving an impressed and bemused Jameela to follow her up.

"So, the flat is a split level. The drawing room, kitchen and dining room is downstairs and two beds are upstairs. The rent should be paid at the first of every month. Shanaya's payment comes like clockwork regularly. The only thing she does that doesn't give me a heart attack I tell you- all her goings on, funny noises, itni badboo aati hain my God. Mujhe nahi pata woh ladki aadha waqt kya karti rehti hain" and so she talked away at an astonishing speed somehow switching between Hindi, Marathi and English in the same sentence with natural ease.

"Āṇi puḍhacyā bilḍiṅgacī gharamālaka tilā mhaṇālā kī tinē saw yellow smoke from Shanaya's flat . But she always had an eye out for Shanaya mhaṇūna mī tilā durlakṣa kēlē" Mrs Hanglem said in one breath and Jameela just kept staring at her in awe as she chattered away while holding a trunk without a hitch in step or breath.

" And here we are ." Mrs Hanglem said as she put the trunk down and rummaged for her big set of keys. As she turned the lock of the gate , the door opened from inside to show Shanaya, dressed in a blue shirt and black jeans with the collar open.

"Shanaya. How many times have I told you not to stay up so late?" Mrs Hanglem scolded as Jameela took her trunk and took it inside the flat.

The drawing room was small with two red armchairs side by side a cream colored sofa facing a small flatscreen TV. As Shanaya huffed and started arguing with Mrs Hanglem about "proper time to sleep" Jameela wandered into the dining room.

Or at least what was supposed to be one. The table had been covered with a sewing machine , mounds of paper with half finished designs on it with cloth and threads. Half crumpled papers were strewn about the floor and thread rolls were rolling down from the table , hanging on for dear life . Chemicals bubbled away energetically on the far side of the table in a set of test tubes. Jameela was pretty sure that was not fabric dye .

Suddenly she heard the door close behind her and Shanaya walked into the room , Jameela realised that she was wearing a blouse and jeans and had been holding a black long coat in her arms . 

It was barely winter around here for that coat.

"Hi. Did you finally appease Mrs Hanglem about your sleeping habits?" Jameela asked.

"She likes to worry. Who knows why? Makes her feel needed I think" Shanaya said dismissively but Jameela smiled slightly at the barest hint of fondness in Shanaya's eyes.

"So, my bedroom is on the left. Yours is in the right. Mrs Hanglem is making some late night elaichi chai for you . She says it helps to sleep. Help yourself. I'm off " Shanaya announced as she turned and swung her coat over her shoulders.

"Hold on. Where you going?" Jameela demanded as she dropped her bags on the floor and followed her outside.

"Work" Shanaya responded as she rummaged for her keys.

" Now ? Its 2 am . I thought you opened at 10 am" Jameela said skeptically .

"Different work." Shanaya rejoined as she swung the coat on herself. Literally swung and swished . Great, she was living with a drama queen , Jameela observed sardonically.

"This is more ... active and definitely more dangerous. I don't quite know if this is your thing" Shanaya said haughtily , Jameela spluttered indignantly at the pompous woman as she tried to formulate a response but Shanaya had already opened the door and stepped out.

"Take a seat Doctor and put your legs up. The tea really is a nice soporific" Shanaya said offhandedly as she walked down the stairs.

Jameela stared at the back of the coated woman incredulously as she left her behind.

She flounced herself down on the armchair and definitely did not pout or mutter underneath her breath about crazy people as Mrs Hanglem came up with that steaming cup of tea.

"Here you are Dr Watwe. This was my nani's chai you know . Put her husband right to sleep. Saved her a lot of trouble" Mrs Hanglem giggled at her own joke as Jameela tried to smile at the joke but was sure it looked like a grimace. Luckily Mrs Hanglem didn't see.

Jameela  dragged the table a few metres away with her feet so she could put the cup of tea on it.

"Thanks Mrs Hanglem. You can call me Jameela you know". Jameela said with a slight but polite smile at the woman who sat on the other armchair and crossed her legs , adjusting her nightie .

" Yes, of course Jameela. My sister- in- law wanted to name her daughter Jameela but then the pandit ji told her it's a manglik naam and her in laws were very superstitious..." Jameela nodded along and continued to smile in various places, as her mind wandered to where Shanaya had gone.

And what the hell did she mean by dangerous and not _her_ thing.

She was the damn army doctor here.  Also as her nana used to say, retired was just a state of mind.

Suddenly the door opened again and Shanaya walked back in and leaned against the wall. She took a sweeping look at Jameela, not missing anything.

Jameela rose up , ignoring Mrs Hanglem who was still chattering away at her friend's latest affair and stared right back at her.

"You're a doctor. In fact you're an army doctor", Shanaya said , observing the doctor's stance . She had been riled up at the "not her thing" phrase. Good.

"Yes."

"How long?"

"8 years"

Close enough, Shanaya thought. There's always something I miss. "Any good?"

"Damn good"

"You must have seen a lot of injuries then, violent deaths, been in fatal danger, especially in the last few years"

"Lots. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much."

Jameela realised with a bit of a start, that her head was craning so much because Shanaya had stepped achingly close to her.

Jameela could see every life decision, every moment ,every challenge posed to her in those brown eyes as Shanaya said.

"Want to see some more?"

Shanaya had barely exhaled one breath as Jameela uttered something completely mad and glorious.

"Oh Gods, yes"

Mrs Hanglem looked up from her chai to see the girls walk out of the door without even a good bye and smiled fondly at the pair running down the stairs.

She went to the window and as Shanaya hailed her autorickshaw from the opposite road, she remarked to herself ,"She's found another one".

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first case together!  
> Someone wanna give a guess which ACD case this one this is based on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? I've never felt more productive lol.  
> So this is their first case together. But as I've always observed, its about them and less about the cases. So they'll be plenty of mystery but more love and angst and pining for us all.
> 
> "maut aane tak na aaye , ab jo aaye ho to aai  
> zindagi mushkil hi thi, marna bhi mushkil ho gaya"
> 
> Rough translation-
> 
> "Death should not come , but it will come when it comes"  
> Life was anyway hard, it's now difficult to die"
> 
> This is by Fani Badauni.
> 
> I wanted to try the stick men but I can't do that so I thought Id rather use my latest obsessions with Urdu poetry as code. Plus dude Urdu poetry is so gay you wouldn't believe. There's an entire genre of lesbian poetry that was sadly scrubbed away during the British rule that is so wonderfully erotic and loving which deserves its time in the sun man.

The rickshaw sputtered along the road with a droning sound as the sleepy looking rickshawwala in a ratty sweater and cap hummed beneath his breath , until Shanaya snapped at him to stop.

Jameela looked behind the rickshaw to check for any black car following them. Fortunately, it was mostly deserted road except for a few stragglers and homeless people sleeping on the pavements.

"What are you looking for ?" Shanaya demanded.

Jameela swiveled to look at her as Shanaya sat straight, pulled up her full height ,despite the fact her head was touching the roof of the vehicle with her hands steepled underneath her chin.

 "I got paid a visit from some friend of yours." Jameela remarked, ostensibly offhandedly.

"Hmm? Friend?" Shanaya said, turning to her with a immaculate raised eyebrow.

Fuck. Is everything gorgeous about her?

"Well, she said enemy". Jameela said with a slight disbelief.

"Oh! Which one?" Shanaya turned back to her steepled hand position.

It was Jameela's turn to have raised eyebrows "Which one?! Uh.. I think she said something about archenemy. Who the hell is she anyway?! "

" The most dangerous woman you've ever come across, and really not my concern or yours for that matter, right now. Ask the question you really want to ask". Shanaya said dismissively.

"Where the hell are we going?" Jameela asked.

" A client's house. He has a problem".

"With a sari? At this time of night?" Jameela asked with a disbelieving look.

"It's not just any sari. It has a special design stitched into it which is of great concern to him and his life" Shanaya said as she silently stretched an arm out for the rickshawwala for the upcoming turn. Jameela braced herself against the wall as the rickshaw took a sharp turn to the right.

"Why would he call you? You're not ..." Jameela trailed off

"What?" Shanaya said with a hint of a challenge waiting to be answered.

"Some kind of detective. You're a sari seller". Jameela finished .

Shanaya's eyebrows were raised again with a challenge in her eyes as she retorted "On the day we met, I told you how I deduced you within mere minutes. That's what I do on hatefully boring days . People come to me with strange designs and codes in saris and other cloth , most of it means nothing, mostly an overzealous tailor leaving behind some mark of his on the sari. But sometimes, saris can be interesting in so many different ways" She finished with relish.

"So you're a puzzle solver as well?" Jameela asked still a little dubious.

"A consulting code-breaker. Like in England in World War 2. I invented the job." Shanaya claimed.

"So you were right". Shanaya stated with a side eye towards Jameela.

Jameela frowned questioningly, as if she sensed the trap " How was I right?'

"He wouldn't just call a sari seller at the dead of night". Shanaya quipped.

Jameela gave an acknowledging laugh and conceded with a shrug at Shanaya who laughed a little too at her expression.

The woman who could deduce her entire life with her body and clothes _would_ be a lot more than a sari seller. 

Every turn she took , both literally and metaphorically, was filled with surprises since she met Shanaya Hardikar. 

Shanaya had silently pointed towards multiple turns by now, as they entered into areas only lit by the moon and the rickshaw's headlights. Jameela looked out to see houses and buildings disappearing, to leave only barren hills and closed tea stalls and dhabbaas on both sides of the road. As the rickshaw passed farmland with tall wheat plants , Jameela spoke again.

"Where is this place ? Who is this client?"

"Hemish Choudhary. He lives out in Sinhagad."

"Family mansion ? You have to be rich to own property around here".

"Most likely, yes".

" How did he come by this sari in the first place?"

"His wife received the first one I believe. She burned it in the forest, for some as yet indiscernible reason. The second one came addressed to him , but before he could talk to her about it, she found it and buried it in the forest, somewhere."

"How does he know she buried it?'

"He followed her into the forest and re-dug it up which is where he saw the design on the border. That's why he called me tonight"

"How _does_ he know about you in the first place?" Jameela questioned skeptically.

"Ghazia, from the medical shop next to my sari shop. Saxena bought his acidity tablets from there when you were trying out saris is his sister- in- law. She helps me find clients." Shanaya replied.

"Oh!" Jameela pursed her lips, as she struggled to find something else to say.

She needed to keep talking, Jameela thought with a slight hint of desperation as Shanaya's erect position and lovely bronzed hands were starting to get to her. Her drawn-up height with two strands of hair on both sides of her face hanging down. Slivers of moonlight sometimes shone upon her face, which did not help Jameela 's ogling, as her goddamn cheekbones were bouncing off the fucking walls . Her hands looked so damn smooth and tempting to touch, that she needed to keep talking, if she didn't want to out herself as a freak already.

Don't ruin this, Jameela reminded herself sternly as she determinedly looked outside or literally anywhere , just not at the absurdly beautiful but remote and mysterious woman next to her.

"Why am I here though?" Jameela blurted.

"I need an assistant. You'll do perfectly". Shanaya said with that same offhand tone but her mind was burning inside at the presence of the short but sturdily built brown haired woman who was sitting inches away from her .

Shanaya's mind spun round and round wildly, at the three words that she had hoped, yet disbelieved its chances of something like this ever becoming reality. The soldier sat with a barely restrained eagerness she saw in herself, as they anticipated a mystery chock-filled with danger and adventure.

Her height also was not preventing her covert ogling since the moonlight shone on her face and arms, as Jameela bent to look outside. Her biceps were well defined and a bit of bulk in them, definitely active in the war field. She rolled her shoulders once in a while , to relieve the injured shoulder muscles and keep them from seizing up.

Shanaya bent her head backwards as if she was stretching her neck, but totally surreptitiously and not obvious at all, except for the driver and the cockroaches in the back and everything else in the rickshaw except somehow Jameela, Shanaya's eyes went to the bit of the shirt riding up from her back. It didn't ride up all that much and it was dark, but Shanaya could make a glimpse of ink on her back. Significance of an emotional sort, most likely.

A tattoo. Presumably not a small one, but most likely covering her full back considering the hint of a flowing pattern from the sneak peek she got. The doctor didn't likely do "tramp stamps" as the kids today called it, nor would she have time to do so. 

Jameela was a doctor so this was done voluntarily and not as a dare or prank of some sorts. The tattoo had meaning since she needed to take time out. It had taken a long while so it was someone she knew , someone she trusted with her body.

 Now, how could she get to see the tattoo was the question.

The rickshaw stopped finally as the driver said dully, his voice already heavy with sleep he was looking forward to sinking in, "We're here madam".

Shanaya threw some money at him and walked out towards the big townhouse with ivy and creeper plants adorning the walls of the house. Shanaya pressed the bell twice and waited as she rocked back and forth on her heels rapidly.

The gate creaked open as she strode inside, Jameela walking fast behind her to catch up to Her Absurd Tallness and Long Legs.

A middle aged man with dark eyes, dressed in a brown jumper, likely due to the slightly cooler climate here in Sinhagad, waited at the door for them.

"You must be Ms Hardikar. I wasn't told someone else would also be coming, however". Mr Choudhary looked concernedly at Jameela.

"She's with me. Dr Jameela Watwe , Hemish Choudhary". Shanaya made quick introductions and strode into the living room.

Jameela was left to do the polite manners thing and shook his hand, as she walked in with him into the drawing room.

"I don't quite know how to explain this, Ms Hardikar. These are very strange incidents I would have taken for a senseless joke, but it has taken a toll on my wife. She is a kind and beautiful woman who I love dearly, but now there is such a haunted and fearful look in her eyes, I would do anything to take it away" Hemish said anxiously wringing his hands as Jameela sat down on the red sofa.

"Why don't you start from the beginning, Mr Choudhary?" Shanaya said as she sat down on the sofa next to her and leaned back observing the man sitting heavily in a straight backed chair.

Hemish swallowed and began " I'm not really that much of a story teller. So please bear with me, if I am unclear about something. I'll start with my marriage, which began about two years ago."

" My family has owned this property and have been caretaker of the forts here for the last six decades. I am not a rich man,but we are well known to the people around here. Two years ago, I went up to Delhi for an old college reunion . I was staying at a hotel there where I met a young Pakistani woman - Elisha Akhtar, while I was having a late night cap at the hotel bar".

" We became friends in a certain way, and soon I realised I was deeply in love with her as any man can be. I asked her to marry me and she readily accepted . My family loved her as I did when they met her and celebrated our union with a big wedding in Delhi itself. I know I sound mad and unwise to marry a woman without knowing too much about her past or her origins Ms Hardikar, but I've never regretted one second of it".

"Before we married, on our last day we spent apart as per tradition , but she visited me that night to speak to me about something important."

"She was very straight forward about it my Eli. She gave me an option to back out if I wished to do so after she explained things".

"She said that she had had some questionable associations in her life, which she had left firmly behind but she was not personally ashamed of anything, nor she had any reason to be. But she asked me, that I shouldn't press her to divulge anything about her past. For my own safety, she insisted and if that wasn't okay I could "bow out"- those words exactly, and she could go back to the lonely life she led before she met me".

"I loved her very much and I did not want to cause her any unnecessary pain, so I readily agreed. We have been genuinely happy for the last two years . Until now"

Mr Choudhary reached for the glass jug on the table nearby and poured himself a glass of water. His fingers were shaking a little bit. From fear or anger, Jameela couldn't tell. 

Probably a bit of both.

" Two months ago, a sari arrived in a string tied brown package for Elisha. It had a Pakistani stamp on it. I thought it was something she had bought for herself for a family wedding from an online store so I put in our bedroom. When Elisha came home from work, I mentioned the package of the sari and her face went pale so fast I thought she'd faint. She ran into the room and threw it outside as if it was poisonous and set it on fire. I shouted and tried to stop it but she held my arm and begged me not to, I was unhappy but I agreed and helped her bury the burned scraps in the back garden."

" From then the mood in the house has changed ma'am . There's a look in her eyes , it's like she is expecting some other shoe to drop any minute. The look of fear and trepidation in her face and body has not left her and she has not had an easy night's sleep since."

"You mentioned another package?" Shanaya said as she leaned forward from the sofa , her eyes intent on the perturbed husband.

"Yes, this happened yesterday. But before that, something even more peculiar happened. One of the boys from the property behind mine, had found a piece of cloth nailed to the garden door and had brought it to me. I demanded to know if they had torn it from their mother's saris and used it as a prank, but they denied it. I disposed of it and thought it nothing more than a stupid joke. Until I mentioned it offhandedly to my wife. She got very upset and asked me to tell her if something like this happens again".

" I promised her but I had started to get genuinely worried about this mess of a situation and wondered if my wife and family were in danger. So I confided in my brother, who spoke to Ghazia." He nodded at Shanaya , Shanaya motioned for the man to continue.

"After I spoke to you, an hour later I received that bloody package , this time it was addressed to me. I tore it open and I saw the sari, and I saw nothing truly out of the ordinary, nothing to be afraid of as such. But when my wife snuck into the forest in the dead of night to bury it . I knew there was something wrong".

Hemish got up and opened a drawer " I dug it out and started to really look at the sari. And that's where I found this" He laid out a beautiful black sari with a golden border on the floor. When the sari was laid out, a small amount of mud spread out on the tiled floor. Shanaya and Jameela bent down and examined the border. Shanaya frowned as Jameela reared back in astonishment.

The sari's border had stitching of text in it. It was two lines from a poem.

"maut aane tak na aaye , ab jo aaye ho to aai  
zindagi mushkil hi thi, marna bhi mushkil ho gaya"

 

 


End file.
